


It Only Takes a Taste

by cherryvanillabich



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Past Abuse, somewhat mystery, uncovering past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 12:57:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanillabich/pseuds/cherryvanillabich
Summary: While not a new member of the iconic Teufort 9, a strange woman on the lamb finds herself being offered a job cooking for the mercenaries. As mysterious as she is a great cook, what will happen when she collides with all of these new personalities? Hopefully she can maintain this new, somewhat unfortunate, career while also hiding from the law.As the story progresses I will add more tags or increase the rating.





	It Only Takes a Taste

The rain on top of her umbrella seemed to add a new layer of mystique and fear onto the deep night surrounding her. There stood a lone woman at an unfamiliar train station, by herself under the light of a single dim street lamp. To her left was the train speeding along to its next stop, to her right were five rickety wooden steps to the ground below. She looked down to her suitcase, the familiar feeling of dread building up in the pit of her stomach. The sheer thought of standing along on this train platform at who-knows-what-o'clock, alone in the middle of the desert caused her heart rate to spike. She wanted to at least try to chase down that train, even if it had already pulled away from the station. At least then she could say she tried. 

She tried to calm herself down and used her free hand to carefully fasten the top button of her trench coat. Who the hell knew that the desert was so cold at night? Though maybe it wasn't the cold that make her do this. She was small in stature, barely even breaking 5 feet, and while she was definitely full bodied what would it matter to somebody who wanted to take her? She tried to distract herself, from messing with the peppermints she had in her coat pocket, to counting the raindrops that landed on her black buckle shoes, and then straightening the dried sunflower pinned to her maroon cloche hat. This is what she was supposed to be. Be patient and wait for the grim reaper to send her down the river styx.

The rain seemed to get heavier as time went on. For all but a brief moment the mystery woman at the train station was worried she had been forgotten about. But as she was about to pick up her bag to search for someplace nearby to stay dry a voice managed to speak over the shower.

"Ms. Smith?"

She turned to face where the voice came from and there stood Miss Pauling. She was getting out of her beat up old car and struggling to open her umbrella. When she managed to open it and shield herself from the rain, her thin legs carried up from the steps up to the platform. Ms. Smith watched her effortlessly walk up the steps with hesitant curiosity. She had met her already, when they made the deal and signed the contract, but somehow this felt like they were meeting for the first time. But what a shame is was that they were face to face again and Ms. Smith didn't know what to say. 

Miss Pauling took the initiative as she always does and held her firm hand out, contrasted greatly by the soft skin of Ms. Russo's own hand. 

"It's good to see you again, Ms. Smith. I was worried that you wouldn't be here on time."

"Don't worry so much about little old me, ma'am. I'm good at doing what I'm told."

Ms. Smith's smile was warm and welcoming like a freshly baked cherry pie. Pregnant silence filled the space between them for a few awkward moments. Ms. Smith had no idea what to do except for smiling and keeping a polite demeanor. Pauling looked at her for a moment, seemingly examining her face. Smith didn't understand what she was doing until she felt her trying to yank her hand out of the uncomfortably extended handshake.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, pulling her hand away "I'm so sorry ma'am!"

"It's fine. Let's just get you loaded up." Pauling took a moment to wipe her hand on the skirt of her dress before picking up her new ward's suitcase. She hadn't noticed before but Smith's hand was rather sweaty from anxiety. Following her supervisor, she kept one hand on her hat and a firm grip on her umbrella with the other. Watching the woman ahead of her nearly caused her to skip one of the steps down into the dirt. She narrowly avoided falling over and making a complete fool of herself, though she doubted that Pauling would notice. She seemed so enveloped in everything she did, so focused. She had the look of somebody who had a hundred things going on at once and not enough time to get to all of them. Maybe she could help with that.

Squeezing into the car wasn't much of an issue. Though it was low to the ground with a low roof, there was ample space in the back for her belongings. The car was so warm, a stark contrast to the confusing cold of the wet desert night. Just as she started to unbutton her trench coat, Ms. Smith was handed a blindfold. It was just a simple white cloth that was surprisingly thick. She wondered if this was just a cloth napkin that had just been stolen from a local restaurant.

She held it in her manicured hands and gave Pauling a confused face as she started up the car. 

"Ma'am, what's this for?" 

"Just a precaution. I need you to put it on while I drive." Pauling buckled up and Smith followed her example "Consider it a trust exercise."

"I really don't think there's any need for-"

"Please trust me on this. There's a need. I wouldn't complain if you closed your eyes under the blindfold, though."

She felt another knot in her stomach twist itself into recognition at the thought of getting on her new employer's nerves. She shut her amber eyes tight and tied the blindfold taught around her head. She was completely blind, her safety and well-being at Miss Pauling's disposal. She folded her hands neatly in her lap as the car began to move. She tried to relax back in her seat but something was telling her to stay alert. Alert, but polite. Keep smiling, don't speak unless spoken to. Be good.

"Now Ms. Smith, before we get there I need to go over a few things with you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Do you remember what you're going to tell people if they ask you what your job is?"

"I'm a private caterer for exclusive company events."

"And if people as you about the company?"

"I work for Mann Co. as a whole and am on call."

"Good. I guess technically it's true but what matters is that you're leaving out the details."

The questions were easy enough to keep track of, it was the directions Pauling was taking that was the hard part. So far it had been a left and then a long stretch of road. She knew that she had to trust Pauling, but what if something went wrong? What was she expected to do if a quick escape was necessary? She was going to do her best to keep track of every turn they took.

"Now let's go over your responsibilities."

Left.

"I'm here to cook and make supply runs whenever necessary. I am to wake up every morning and make enough food to feed 9 hungry men throughout the day. I am to fulfill their requests at my convenience but not allow them access to anything that can cause property damage."

Straight for the next minute.

"And?"

Another left.

"And I don't ask questions."

Sharp right turn

"Good. I'm glad you remembered all of that. We're almost there."

That was sure to be a lie, because after close to 30 more minutes filled with silence and nighttime radio Smith had a hard time keeping her head up. The warm air being blasted towards her, the comfortable upholstery, and the surprisingly smooth driving made it hard to stay awake. Her head started to bob up and down as the call of slumber started to take over. She tried to fight it, but it was so late. And she was so tired. Maybe just a little nap wouldn't hurt. 

But before she could get the rest she was craving the car started to slow down. Part of her knew why, they had arrived, but the other part of her wanted the ride to keep going. She wasn't ready to be awake right now.

As the car came to a full stop Miss Pauling turned off the radio. For a moment there was complete silence. Ms. Smith was tempted to remove her blindfold before told and take a peek. It seemed she didn't have to because as soon as she brought her hand up to her face Miss Pauling had exited the car and opened up the backseat. 

"You can go ahead and take off your blindfold." She couldn't be sure, but Ms. Smith thought she heard the sound of Pauling grabbing her suitcase and setting it on the ground.

Doing as she was instructed, the blindfold came off. She gently untied it and folded it on the dashboard. It took blinking for a few good seconds for her eyes to adjust to the new surroundings. It looked as if they were at a simple factory. From the outside it looked like there could be no way anything threatening could be lurking here. Yet as she got out she heard a series of strange beeps. She tried looking around for where the noise was coming from but stopped as she heard Miss Pauling clear her throat. 

"I don't mean to rush you," she said as she brought over her suitcase and placed it in front of her "but you have an early start tomorrow and I have a long drive back home."

"Yes, of course ma'am." Ms. Smith grabbed her bag in one hand before she remembered her umbrella that still sat in the backseat. As she was going to grab it, she was instructed to follow close behind. 

'Oh.' she thought as she obeyed and followed her supervisor through the striking darkness 'I guess I can always ask for it back later.'

She did as she was told and followed close behind Miss Pauling through the, what looked to be, patched together metal door. She wasn't sure if it was the low lighting of the factory or simply her tired mind making her see things that weren't there, but she could have worn that this wasn't how a bread factory was supposed to look. She had definitely seen a door labeled "Warning: Toxic Waste". She'd make sure to keep a safe distance between her and that door at all times. She couldn't help but think 'What the hell did I get into?'.

"Ma'am, why is there-"

"Shh!" Miss Pauling turned around with a single finger over her mouth. Ms. Smith placed her free hand over her full lips and felt fear rise up in her. "You need to be quiet... Everybody else is asleep." Pauling replied in a hushed tone.

Ms. Smith nodded her head and kept her hand over her mouth. She felt her lipstick press against her palm as an annoyingly waxy press. She tried to keep up but had trouble keeping up while also being silent. The two of them passed by many rooms, a medical center, a training room, and even a classy looking mahogany door that stuck out greatly from the rest of the atmosphere. The entire place sent a shiver down her spine and she brought her suitcase up to her chest, hugging it tight in an attempt to ground herself. She needed this job. There was no turning back.

What seemed like an eternity of Miss Pauling guiding her around and occasionally shushing her had finally passed, much to the minuscule relief of her new employee. Dread still bubbled up in her stomach as she watched Pauling input a 4 digit code into a key-pad. She had no idea if she was allowed to look or not, so Smith elected to just look at the ground. She tapped her feet gently against the smooth cement floors and listened to the satisfying taps the toes of her shoes made. 

"Okay," Pauling said as the door opened beside her "come on in." She grabbed Ms. Smith's arm and lead her inside the dark room. As if she'd been in here a thousand times, the assistant turned on a bulky, cream colored light switch that lit up the entire room with obnoxious fluorescent lighting. Ms. Smith groaned at the sudden onslaught of direct light. She dropped her suitcase to the ground and rubbed her eyes with her closed hands. It all felt so overwhelming to her exhausted eyes, all she wanted to do right now was lay down somewhere soft and fall asleep.

Once she opened her eyes again, she was shocked to see that it was just a regular kitchen. There was an oven, a sink, a rather large refrigerator, and plenty of counter space. The walls were covered in a plain white wallpaper and the counter tops were a simple solid-surface material. It felt as sterile as the rest of the space, with a ceiling just as high. The only thing that broke the theme was a simple wooden door to the far wall. Though it was still painted white, the the wooden grain was impossible to miss.

"This is your workstation, it's completely stocked with a month's worth of food and ingredients. The dishes are in the cabinets, cleaning supplies are under the sink. Follow me."

Ms. Smith was hardly given time to look around before she was lead to the wooden door. Everything looked brand new except for the handle. It was dented and the metal was obviously worn from years of use. Miss Pauling opened the door and allowed the cook to enter first. It was a plain room, but sporting a wallpaper that smith could only describe as "dusty rose". There was a full bed in the corner covered in plain white sheets, a small closet, and a dresser. The floors in this room where a smoothed over wood with a barely noticeable polish. There was a bathroom conjoined with this bedroom, only separated by a wall and a door frame with no door.

"This your room, obviously. You're welcome to decorate however you want. Just don't tape anything to walls."

"New paint, ma'am?"

"Yep. We want to keep it nice for awhile."

Smith slowly walked around examining everything. The dresser had obviously been bought at an antique sale. It, too, was painted white but the paint was chipping away slowly over time. There were little yellow buttercups painted on near the little circular handles on each of the three drawers. It was cute, but needed a little work. Everything else was wonderfully not-extraordinary. Except for the window over by the bed. 

She looked out through and saw the landscape of the dark night. That is to say, she saw nothing. It was too damn dark. 

"It's very nice." Smith remarked with a tired smile. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it Ms. Smith."

"You can call me Amanda."

"Amanda. Got it." Pauling gave her a thumbs up as she left Amanda's room and over to her suitcase that was still in the kitchen. "Don't forget your bag."

"Oh! Thank you!" she made her way back over to her bag and picked it up. 

Pauling opened the kitchen door to leave, but not before turning around to look at her latest charge. "Your uniform is hanging in the closet, you're expected to wear it during work hours. You can wear whatever shoes you like."

"Well, that works out," she replied with a laugh as she hit the heels of her black buckle shoes together "I only have the one pair!" She allowed herself to laugh for a brief moment before she saw Miss Pauling holding out her hand.

"I'll let you get settled in. Welcome aboard, Amanda." 

Mandy smiled at the chance to redeem herself for the awkward handshake earlier in the night and took full advantage. Her grip was firm but not constricting, and the time that their hands spent joined together was much shorter this time around. A significant improvement. So why did Miss Pauling look so uncomfortable?

When their hands parted Pauling immediately pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and wiped it against the palm of her hand. "I'll call you tomorrow night to see how everything is going."

With that she left, and Amanda was left to stand there mildly insulted as the kitchen door shut in front of her. 

"What the hell?..."

That's when she remembered the lipstick she had accidentally smeared onto her hand when she was trying to be quiet. She looked down and sure enough, the color was more or less gone, having been transferred to a new host. She groaned, tormenting herself over missing something so obvious. Now Miss Pauling would hate her, she was sure of it.

With a dejected sigh she carried her suitcase into her room and set it down beside the dresser. She opened the top drawer and began to take off her hat and unbutton her trench coat. Underneath it was a yellow sun dress which she also was quick to remove. She placed all of her items in the drawer and closed it before sitting on the edge of her bed and removing her shoes and socks. Opening her suitcase, Amanda got out a fresh pair of underwear and her cotton nightgown to sleep in. 

There was no mirror for her to look at herself in her bedroom, yet one stood in the bathroom just above the sink. With the lack of a door it was easy enough to see herself in the reflection, even from more than 15 feet away. Though her nightgown was cute and a change of unmentionables left her feeling refreshed, Amanda couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit disgusting. She was aching for a shower, but she was so tired right now, all she wanted to do was climb into her bed and forget about everything else for a little bit.

Climbing into a new bed always felt familiar in a strange, foreign kind of a way. All beds were comfortable in their own right but their environments were always what got to her. This was no different. As she turned off the bedside lamp and laid down a chill ran over her. She brought the blankets tighter to her body and felt some relief, but her feet were still so cold. Maybe she should have kept her socks on.

"Just get some sleep, Mandy..." she whispered to herself as she felt her eyelids grow a little heavier "You'll feel better once you're asleep..."

And right she was. Her body had been moving to the point of exhaustion for nearly a day and a half trying to get here. The least she could do was enjoy a few good hours of sleep before the sun came up. Yet there seemed to be no such luck.

It was only 4 hours later when Amanda was woken up by the sound of a bugle playing in the distance. She tried to push aside her people-pleasing personality and get some more sleep instead of answering the call. Yet as she tried to drift back into a comfortable slumber she couldn't mistake the sound of the bugle playing transition to people yelling. Then to a man screaming.


End file.
